


The Lion of Kupala

by Hanatamago



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alliance General!Balthus, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But man will it burn, Courtesan AU, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slow Burn, Spymaster!Yuri, politics and intrigue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26215450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanatamago/pseuds/Hanatamago
Summary: “There’s hardly anything you could offer me that would change my stance. Unless you intend to deliver world peace—”“Oh, but I do.”“—and even in that unlikely event, peace takes time, which is time that Abyss spends open to attacks. You’re a smart man, Claude. I haven’t said anything you wouldn’t already have known.”Sothis, what Yuri wouldn't give for a shot of rum and a swift kick to the head.“True enough. And yet, I’m still here, aren’t I?” Claude grinned. Guy's got ambitions, Yuri had to give him that.“Get on with your pitch, then. Let’s see your unstoppable force and my immovable object duke it out.”When Claude comes to Wyvern's Lair to parlay with Fódlan's most illustrious, neutral spymaster, Yuri's answer is obvious: Hell no. Abyss needs political enemies like Yuri needs a dagger to the neck. But when Yuri starts falling for the general of the Alliance's vanguard... Things get a little more complicated.
Relationships: Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	The Lion of Kupala

**Author's Note:**

> Illustrated by the lovely [@sunmikkyu](https://twitter.com/sunmikkyu) for the Ultra Rarepair Big Bang!  
> All her stuff is amazing, so go check her out!
> 
> Her art for the fic is [here](https://twitter.com/sunmikkyu/status/1300472506898198534)!

Simply put, King’s Market is a game of quick arithmetic. The basis of the game is that each player must guess the value of their cards precisely right, then play them to maximum effect. Three sapphires may matter little when your opponents hold all the cards that those sapphires might have purchased. Two sapphires don’t mean all that much when you’ve already got five in hand - the highest cost for any card. One sapphire, however, may just decide the game if it’s the last gem that your opponent needs to finish out his hand.

Simple arithmetic, eh?

“And that’s fifteen - looks like I win, yeah?” Yuri smirked, leaning back into his makeshift throne of velveted cushions. Hey, if you’re gonna play the same game at the same table all night, best get comfortable, right?

Heh, anyhow, the game is a bit more complicated than that, to say the least. Sapphires are only one of the five gems in play, and there’s a lot more to keep track of, too. You start adding in shit like gold tokens and lord cards, and suddenly the value judgment gets quite a bit trickier. Lots of arithmetic, and lots of intuition if you haven’t got all those calculations in hand. Luckily, Yuri had an edge either way.

To be honest, it was a bit of a surprise that King’s Market managed to be as popular as it was given that most of the Wyvern's Lair’s clientele were soldiers, not merchants. But hey, Yuri had no complaints.

The Wyvern’s Lair was a classy joint. Accessible, too. Excellent for soldiers, excellent for merchants, even excellent for nobles. And those rave reviews weren’t just Yuri’s pride talking, though he _was_ quite proud of the place. Anyone who knew anything about war, politics, or a damn good time knew about the little tea house tucked into the foothills of Garreg Mach Monastery. It had just sprung up out of nowhere a few years back, quickly attracting nobles far and wide with its perfectly brewed tea and enchanting proprietor.

Heh, not all of that was bullshit, but not all of it was true, either. The opening was meticulously planned rather than spontaneous. Nobles did come for the tea sometimes, but more often than not, they came for Yuri’s particular skills: information and _entertainment_. Everyone knew the gig as soon as he put the sign out. Come for the tea and biscuits, stay for an audience with Fódlan’s most cunning escort.

Yuri didn’t mind. He didn’t have the freedom to _mind_ , of course, but all the same, he didn’t. Lords were only men, and men were only simple creatures. Yuri wouldn’t fault a guy for wanting a bit of carnal pleasure here and there, and he got plenty out of the deal too. Gold and whispers for a bit of flesh… not too bad, yeah? Heh, sometimes it was even fun.

To be perfectly clear, Yuri did not sell his clients’ secrets. Perhaps he used them to his benefit, but any information Yuri sold to lords and kings was discovered by his own web of spies. Sure, he could stand to gain quite a heap of gold by revealing Lord Echbert’s infidelity, or spilling that little Tommathy Rosemont was actually of common birth. Oh, yeah, with the secrets Yuri knew, he could have half of Fódlan on their knees... 

But he’d have to burn a lot of bridges to do that, and for the moment, that wasn’t an option.

On top of being Yuri’s home and hearth, the Wyvern’s Lair provided for all of the people of Abyss. All the tea house’s spare food and a good chunk of its spare gold flowed down to the city below the monastery. Yuri owed it to them. It was his first true home, but more than that… More than that, it was a symbol of sorts. Abyss was a home for those without shelter. A table for those without food. A community for those without kin. Abyss was salvation that the church could not openly give.

Ah, but enough about Abyss, yeah?

The Wyvern’s Lair was split into three different areas: the main house, the private rooms, and the staff quarters. The tea house itself had two separate halls. Tonight, Yuri was playing in the game hall - a huge room with round tables for parties to play cards or roll dice. Reddish heartwood panels lined the walls around a stripe of windows currently covered by sliding panels of cream-colored rice paper. Nice place, yeah? On sunny days, Yuri would open all the windows up and let the natural light in, but during the nights, the hall was lit by wall sconces and lanterns hanging from the ceilings. The flames were magical, too - no chance of burning the place down. If Yuri wanted to change the color, he could just ask Constance. Dim red for intimate nights, brighter gold for bustling crowds, purple for spectacle shows once in a blue moon.

Two larger curved tables in the center were used for Hapi’s games - mostly blackjack and poker tonight. Smaller tables on the sides of the hall were used for sitting and eating, drinking and carousing, or playing smaller games without a dealer. Night after night, the hall was filled with the sounds of drunken revelry and a mix of cheers and curses at the end of each round. Nice gig, really. 

Constance stood guard by her perch at the bar, neatly marking notes on each party and lord visiting the tea house. Most soldiers just shelled out for a few tankards of ale, sometimes one of their very reasonably priced fruit tea blends. By the end of the night, she’d have a full account of everyone in the tea house and some vague notes on how they spent their time. Seemed like needless administration, yeah? Well, in truth, it was one of the easiest ways for Yuri to get his information on battalion movements in the war. Not that preferred tea blends would give away the Empire’s strategy, but they offered a few hints to where the soldiers were traveling from, and with the full list, Yuri could often piece together what units they belonged to.

Aside from the game hall, the Lair had a quieter dining hall on the other side of the bar. It couldn’t exactly be ‘quiet’ with the gaming hall just a wall away, but it was certainly a more calming place to relax and enjoy refreshments. Plenty of lords and mages joined in the games and rowdiness, but many preferred the quiet enjoyment of the Lair’s many talented bards. Yuri enjoyed both, so where he decided to spend his nights depended more often on where the lords landed.

“Dammit, he’s just too good.” The lancer sighed and took a mournful swig of his ale. Heh, he did a pretty good job, but a risky draw in round four left him too far behind - he placed third.

“Half luck, if ya ask me.” His brother in arms clapped him on the shoulder. That one placed fourth, so yeah, makes sense he thinks it’s luck, not logic. In all fairness, Yuri should probably lower his expectations for a vanguard unit.

“Nah. Don’t think so…” the last of their party of three piped up, “A quarter luck, maybe.” 

He was the smart one. Smartest of the three, that was. Yuri figured he was some sort of mage. Sure, he had all the heft of a cavalier and carried a lance, but… Well, for starters, he was a fair sight better with logic than most of the players in the tavern that night. That aside, his cloak smelled ever so faintly of sulfur and salt, markers of black magic.

“Care to make it six?” Yuri winked. “We can lower the stakes so I don’t send you boys back penniless.”

Sir Fourth Place let out a hearty laugh and slammed his empty tankard back down on the table.

“Why not? Bet I can at least beat Joff this time, eh?” he declared.

“Much as I’d love another go, we’ve got to ride back in the next little while, and somethin’ tells me Elron might be gettin’ to the point he can’t stay on his horse.” Third Place - Joff - shook his head.

“Heh, yer just sayin’ that ‘cause you know I’m right.”

The dark knight cleared his throat. “Good games, Yuri. We should head out.”

“Of course. If you want another go, well, you know where to find me.”

The men shuffled out into the crisp autumn air with a parting nod. Yuri swept the last of his winnings into a coin pouch and tossed it over the bar. The coin would go right back into the house (but if he took a cut to spend on fragranced soaps and candles, no one would mind).

Yuri quickly wiped off the table, clearing it in case a new party took its place. Heh, for all his drunken rowdiness, the one they called Elron had at least taken care to use a coaster. Luckily, though, things seemed to be winding down for the night. Party after party, guests retired for the night and set out to return to their camps. The last few guests trickled out the door not long after Yuri had settled back at the bar for a cup of Constance’s specialty tea with citrus and ice shards.

Solid night, all things considered. By Constance’s ledger, all of the private rooms had been emptied out as well. Just cleanup left.

“Good games tonight, Yuri-bird?” Hapi approached the table with a drink in tow - milk and chocolate liquor - Yuri’s favorite. “You made a killing, so I bet they were pretty one-sided.”

“Right as ever. Tell me, are we ever going to get a sorcery unit passing through? I’m bored to tears.” Yuri smiled and took a sip from his drink. “This is excellent - you really should consider taking the bar full time, Hapi.” 

“Hah, thanks, but no thanks.” 

Ah, well. She made a damn good gamemaster anyhow. Might not have all the charm of a courtesan, but she fit right in at the Wyvern's Lair. 

“Also, I don’t think most mages are the type to visit brothels,” Hapi added.

“We’re a _tea house_ , not a brothel. Besides that, I’m only interested in playing them for the strategy. You ever fuck a warlock? Half of them are helpless virgins, the other half are mad. And don’t even get me started on the bishops...”

“I believe it. Pretty sure that’s your field of expertise, not mine.” Hapi rolled her eyes.

“As a matter of fact, it is,” Yuri smirked.

* * *

The next week was quiet.

Not much of a surprise, really. Peaceful as the tea house was, outside of its lovely, paper-paneled walls, a war raged on throughout Fódlan. Most places had more quiet weeks than busy ones these days. The tea house was an exception, though. Mostly because it made a few bucks off every battalion passing by.

Yuri did his best to shield his people from the harsher side effects of the three monarchs ripping the continent to pieces. The money helped. Treaties helped too. Yuri had his silk strings tied around half the lords in each court, so it was generally easy enough to guarantee his territory went untouched, so long as he stayed out of their fights.

And hey, if they didn’t want to be amicable about things, then Yuri had other tools at this disposal. Heh, he couldn’t very well cross his fingers and pray to the Goddess for safety. That had never really been his style, had it?

Instead, he took action. His little birds scattered throughout the land made him privy to all sorts of happenings in each and every corner of the continent. Like clockwork, two letters arrived by the seventh day of each moon: one from the Kingdom, one from the Empire. Ashe kept him abreast of the Dukedom’s movements, and Dorothea used her place as a songstress to report on the Empire nobility’s gossip. The information was always good. Reliable. Helpful, usually. Yuri put it to good use, and he made sure each of his eyes was well taken care of. Yuri hadn’t lost a little bird in years - he wouldn’t get sloppy now.

So he had the Kingdom and Empire in the palm of his hand (tucked away in ledgers in his desk, more accurately). The Alliance, though - that was a different story. Claude was quiet and he was clever. He wasn’t paranoid, but he was a far sight more stars-damned careful with his men. Yuri had a hell of a time getting spies into Alliance forces, but hey, he could take a challenge.

A few scattered birds in different Alliance units sent him fragments of encoded information from time to time. Not much, but it was enough to go on, especially when Yuri could supplement it with prying eyes in dozen Alliance cities, along with a few outside Fódlan altogether. It was enough to predict the moves Claude made with relative accuracy, and it was more than enough to bargain for Abyss’s safety, whichever monarch came knocking.

Hopefully they wouldn’t, but Yuri wasn’t naive enough to think that this peace would last forever, no matter how hard he fought for it.

All he could do was prepare.

Yuri swept a fluffy, sable fur brush across a slab of rouge pressed powder. Time to put on his face for the evening, yeah? It was a different sort of armor - the kind his mother gave him. Some men fought with steel shields and greatswords, Yuri fought with enchanting words and brilliant colors. Pink for innocence, purple for mystery, red for power.

Eyeshadow first - Yuri blended lavender powder into a darker shade mixed with ash. A touch of mascara, then peachy paint across his lips. Heh, one day he’d do a bold red lip, but not tonight. The nobles would be far too intimidated, wouldn’t they? Perhaps when a wyvern unit passed through, he’d give it a go. They were always a touch rowdier. Yuri buffed out the lilac powder, softening it into a perfect smokey eye - Dorothea’s first and best lesson to him.

Sothis, he looked damn good. Frankly, Dorothea’s makeup tips were probably as critical to the Lair’s success as anything else.

Vulnerability - that’s the key. False vulnerability, of course. Hell if he’d ever really let himself be caught off guard. But that wasn’t the point. The point was to make each and every one of his guests _think_ that he was vulnerable. That they alone were privy to Yuri’s softer side. That it wasn’t something that any paying customer could waltz in and see.

It’s all a lie, but it’s a good lie. He was good at lying.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” Yuri called from his perch at the vanity.

“Hey Boss, something to report.” The intruding soldier gave him a quick, clipped bow. 

He was one of Yuri’s own, and had been for a while. Say what you will about Abyssians. Treat them right, and they’re more loyal than most abovegrounders. Three years in, and even though Yuri knew his real name, he still insisted on going by ‘Abysskeeper’. Heh, kind of an odd duck, but they all were.

“Go on, then.” Yuri nodded, then went back to tidying up the edges of his makeup.

“A group of Alliance soldiers were spotted heading this way...” he hesitated - Yuri raised an eyebrow.

Alliance soldiers weren’t anything special. Being in the center of the continent, the Lair regularly hosted battalions from all three armies. Often, they even welcomed guests from separate armies on the same night. Whatever grievances the soldiers might have were left at the door. The tea house was a designated neutral zone. If anyone dared break the sanctity of that arrangement, Yuri saw to them himself. 

“And?” Yuri gestured for him to cut to the chase.

“Uh, well, our scouts say that the Alliance Leader is with them.”

“von Riegan?” Yuri straightened in his seat.

“Yep.”

“Hm. That _is_ interesting… Thanks, friend. Let me know if you hear anything more.” 

The guard nodded and stepped out of the room, leaving Yuri with more than a few questions.

Huh. What business could Claude von Riegan possibly have with him? He formally stated his neutrality many moons ago in a letter to each of the three warring lords. Well, technically, two warring lords, and Rodrigue in the presumed dead prince’s stead. Sure, things had changed between battlefields. The Empire took ground, then lost it. The Kingdom shriveled and tore itself apart between the Dukedom and the resistance. 

But nothing had fundamentally changed for Abyss. No army had (or could possibly have) a sweeter offer than staying safe by swearing to take no sides. No matter how valuable his information, the lords wouldn’t guarantee protection for a lost city of thieves. Every deal they sent was dead on arrival. So Claude must know that Yuri won’t ally with him... What sort of play did he plan on making?

* * *

The day went smoothly enough. Preparing for the Alliance lords’ arrival may have upped his workload, but Yuri was nothing if not wickedly organized.

Food from the day before was transported straight down to Abyss - nothing rotten, nothing stale, but high lords can tell day-old pastries and bread from fresh, so it simply wouldn’t do in the tea house. They always had plenty extra, so tossing it would just be foolish.

His consorts flitted about, preening even more than usual in light of the Alliance lords’ arrival. Not that they weren’t used to nobles dipping in and out of the tea house, but such large, formal gatherings had become rather scarce in wartime.

Saoirse, the most seasoned of the bunch (save for himself), stepped out from the ladies’ dressing chambers.

“A moment, Yuri?”

“Anything for you, ladybird.” Yuri let her take him aside. Whatever her concern, he had time to deal with it. It was the same for any of his birds, but Saoirse especially.

“My thanks,” She smiled, then started her report.

Everything with the kitchen seemed to be in order. As short of notice as it is, they had managed to pull together enough spices to season the tea cakes and tarts with Alliance-inspired flavors. Of course, the lords couldn’t be journeying so far to taste more of the same, so Yuri’s own recipes stayed on the menu too. Less spicy, more cream and sugar. Constance had some particularly tasty iced desserts - and Hapi… Well, Hapi was little help in making any of the savory snacks on the menu, but she did taste-test all of them.

Their coffers of tea (and much stronger beverages, of course) were well enough stocked to handle any picky nobles, and their specialty drinks were ingeniously tasty thanks to Constance’s mastercrafted recipes. Plus, with Saoirse’s finesse with a knife, they had plenty of swirly citrus garnishes stocked up, too. 

Really, Saoirse had it all in hand without Yuri’s intervention, save for a few minute details on the entertaining rooms. Yuri assured her that by opening, every sheet would be changed, every side table stocked, and every pillow fluffed. 

If Yuri ever dropped dead, Constance had explicit instructions to hand all the books off to Saoirse. She’d do just fine.

Further down the hall, Hapi counted chips and checked over game sets. Every piece seemed to be in place, every card unmarked, save for Yuri’s special decks.

“Ready for the lords?” Yuri asked.

“Yup.” Hapi set the last Queen’s Gambit board on the stack. Good to go, then. “What about you, Yuri-bird?”

“As I’ll ever be.” 

“Did you figure out what they want?”

Yuri bit back a sigh. Well, he tried to bite back a sigh, considering. Still, a puff of displeased air pushed through his lips.

“I’ve got theories. Nothing concrete, I’m afraid.” Yuri leaned over the gambling table. “He’s a trickster, that one.”

“Pretty rich, coming from you.”

“Perhaps. We’re birds of a feather, aren’t we? Still, I doubt we need to worry about the Alliance.”

“Something like that.” Hapi frowned. “Do you trust him?”

“Heh, ‘trust’ isn’t exactly the word I would use, but… I like him. He’s clever, and he has a plan. And unlike the other two, I think he’d give anything he has to make sure that plan succeeds. Anything short of committing war crimes, hopefully.”

“Hopefully.” She wrinkled her nose. “Claudster’s always been a bit of a schemer.”

“True enough. And hey, we may well get caught up in one of his schemes.” Yuri shrugged. “But whatever happens, we’ll keep Abyss safe, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hapi nodded, then turned to the next set of board games to check over. “So, you gonna sleep with him, Yuri bird? Do your weird charm-y thing?”

Yuri’s smile cracked into a much brighter laugh. 

“Doubt that’s what he’s after, but I’m not opposed. He’s quite handsome, after all.” Yuri winked. “And you know, they say Alliance men have a special type of silver-tongue.”

Hapi rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty gross.”

“What? This _is_ a brothel, Hapi.”

“Tea house.” Hapi stuck out her tongue. “Your words, Yuri-bird, not mine.”

* * *

Prep continued well into the afternoon. By the time the sun began to consider setting, each table in the dining hall had been set with fresh linen, and each private room filled with scented candles and massage oils. Heh, well, some of his birds would use the oil for massages, but of course, it had its other uses too.

Game sets were properly sorted, pastries were baked to perfection, custards left to firm up in Constance’s arcane chiller - good to go, almost. One last task before Yuri could take his place in the hall. The Alliance lords were set to arrive in less than an hour, but he had time. Yuri might have almost been nervous if he was capable of that sort of thing. 

He’s not, though. Thank the Goddess for that, too. His days on the street pounded such inhibitions out of him long ago. Beneath the perfumes and silken robes, this life of his was still plenty treacherous. Any false move could easily bring about ruin for Abyss if he were to displease the wrong noble.

But Yuri was not careless, and Yuri was not stupid. If he wished only to enrich himself and live in a life of comfort and luxury, he wouldn’t be here. He’d be in a king’s lap somewhere, ideally sipping wine out of a crystal chalice, and in a world where his charm alone might make warmongers see reason. Perhaps he’d even be on Claude’s side.

Then, perhaps he might die a bloody consort’s death if things went south.

In any case, Yuri was not a royal consort, and no matter how many nobles offered him the gig, he wouldn’t take it. No riches and no fine wine in this world could ever pull him from Abyss. They needed a protector, and Yuri fit the bill. To abandon them would be unthinkably cold. Rich, coming from Yuri.

He climbed a small staircase tucked away behind the thick, oak door locked with a brass key. Only a hand-picked few of his own had access to the second floor. Abysskeeper, Saoirse, Constance, and Hapi. This was his domain - his nest. Guests stay below. Always.

A few steps down the hall, Yuri stopped at a larger door with a heavy iron lock. It didn’t look like much, but even Yuri couldn’t pick it on his own. He produced a matching iron key granting himself entry, then stepped in. See, Constance had enchanted all the important locks with ward charms a while back. Sure, someone could always burn through the wooden walls, but any bad attempts at the lock would ring a bell that she kept with her ledger. It was a clever system - each door had a different tone, and the door itself didn’t throw any alarms, so with luck, they’d be able to sneak right up on any interloper that tried their hand.

Ah, _finally_. A moment of stillness.

Yuri shrugged off his dark outer cloak and shut the door behind him, taking care to lock it shut after. 

A few excited squawks greeted him - the ravens. His faithful avian companions, all the way from Enbarr. Funny story, really. It had been some years ago, Yuri took a hit job on this Empire lord (classic scorned wife, nothing to write home about). The kill was clean enough. Dagger through the throat and he sent the escort along with enough gold to leave the city and get fresh clothes. As always, he had gone to check the study and aviary for any secret he could use to his advantage. The ravens hadn’t been fed for days… Yuri wasn’t _that_ stone-hearted that he could just leave the poor things to scrabble around hoping for a taste of their cruel owner’s flesh.

And hey, what’s a dead guy gonna do with messenger birds? So Yuri snuck down to the kitchens and nicked a few peaches and rabbit scraps, then vanished into the night with them. Took a while before they had the strength to fly again, and when they did… Well, seemed like they never wanted to leave. So they never did.

Heh, maybe you had to be there.

“Hey there, Chary,” Yuri murmured, unlatching the thin, steel wire cage. More of a formality, really. Protection from any other birds he brought up to the aviary on busy days. They wouldn’t fly off, but they had no reservations about trying to eat his books.

This was Yuri’s nest too, after all.

Faded wooden bookshelves along the walls held tome upon tome and ledger upon ledger of city secrets and standard monthly reports. A few maps and lesser charms hid among the plainer looking books on the shelves. Even here, Yuri drew upon his trickery to conceal anything he deemed worth concealing. He trusted everyone with a key to the aviary, of course, but the games he played required utmost caution. Yuri’s most valuable secrets were safely and securely tucked away in his office, of course, but it was easier to have notes here in the aviary when Yuri went to draft messages. 

Late light trickled through the windows, highlighting the thin layer of dust on some of the untouched shelves. Eh, no point in keeping the place too clean - the ravens didn’t mind. Charybdis ruffled her feathers and hopped onto a branched perch. Heh, she had always been the most outgoing of the bunch.

“Curious, aren’t you?” Yuri teased, smoothing down her soft feathers, “Trust me, it’d bore you to tears.”

Yuri was the eyes of the world. His ears were pressed to every thin wall, his shadows lurked in each dark alley, his poisons coated every dagger the Savage Mockingbird sent to meet its target.

Because knowledge, little birds, was power in clever hands. And in Yuri’s hands, the realm might finally know some peace for a change. Faraway lords would doubtlessly quibble over titles and crests until the end of time, but the common folk would be fed. Despots would be deposed, corruption brought to light, order kept and tyrannical rule broken.

Each invisible tug on the strings brought them closer and closer to a better future. Or, things seemed so until a damned war broke out. Of late, it was all Yuri could do just to keep his people safe and happy. He saved lives when he could manage it. He sent letters to border towns warning them of incoming troops who would pillage their grain in the name of protection. He helped smugglers avoid patrols, and not just because they’d given him a special deal on mead.

But that was where it stopped - the common folk.

Yuri did not serve nobles, for they did not serve the realm. At least, not since the war. If they wanted to duke it out, then sure, may the best man win - but Yuri would take no part in it. He had nothing to gain. No sure bets.

Ah, one day, maybe. When the flames of war burned to cinders, maybe he’d have the time and threads to sow a little peace and progress. Yuri wrote out a short report on the state of their tea stores. Running low on Almyran pine needles, doubly low on bergamot… And of course, his supplier must know of all the pastries he intended to serve tonight. One tart (enriched dough) with royal icing, three butter cakes, and plenty of savory dishes alongside.

Yuri rolled the parchment into a tight scroll and fastened it onto one of his ravens. Clever things, though not as clever as the tracking beads Constance conjured for him some years ago. This one, he sent to the Kingdom. Or, more accurately, to Ashe Duran, who should have been somewhere in between Gautier and Kleiman territory this moon.

“Off with you now, Scylla.”

A few more scrolls, a few more birds, a few more tracking beads. Yuri sent the rest of his ravens along with their cryptic reports. Heh, hopefully Claude wouldn’t try to shoot them down.

Well, if he did, Yuri could always think of a few tasteless, odorless poisons to slip into his tea.

* * *

The Alliance nobility entered the Wyvern's Lair to a chorus of quiet gasps and flock of curious eyes. Of course, his arrival was no surprise to Yuri and his little birds, but still - it _was_ quite exciting. Not every day you got to meet a prince - ah, sorry, a _duke_. Heh, Claude was still but a duke for this part of the story, friends.

Of course, esteemed duke or royal prince, such high nobility would expect their arrival to be heralded by no small amount of fascination and fawning. The Wyvern's Lair would provide plenty - and more.

Soldiers cloaked in gold trickled into the tea house, filling many of the tables for games and drink. A few inquired with Constance about booking a room. A few bookish sorts headed to the dining room for a quieter night. After the vanguard, a strong-looking woman entered, joined by a squad of lithe bowmen. 

Judith. The Hero of Daphnel, they called her. Well, ‘hero’ might be fitting enough by her deeds, but Yuri had also heard that she could hold her liquor better than Lord Holst, and in that moment, that small fact held his interest far more than her legendary valor. Ah, well, maybe he’d get the chance to see her in action.

Yuri spotted a few other lords spreading out across the establishment: Lorenz Gloucester - not head of his house yet, but soon. He opted for tea rather than ale. Rose blend? Whatever Constance brewed up, he certainly wouldn’t be disappointed.

The Ordelia heir, white-haired and too delicate among the soldiers. But then, she led a battalion of the most lethal and decorated mages the Alliance had to offer, so not that delicate. She would be a treat to challenge in King’s Market - if he wasn’t otherwise occupied.

Leonie Pinelli - not a noble, but a decorated general at this point. If Yuri recalled correctly, she wasn’t just a commoner, but a commoner from a town so small most maps skipped it altogether. She settled at a table with a few cavaliers, perhaps soldiers from her unit? Ale and smoked meat, no surprise there.

And -

(“Who is that one?” Yuri whispered to Constance, “And use your inside voice, please.”

“That one? Ah, the man you cannot manage to name is Lord Albrecht!” Goddess, she had no concept of an ‘inside voice’, did she? “He is known for his position on the-”

“Wait, wait. Albrecht? That territory east of the mountains?”

“Yes! And if you had allowed me to finish, Yuri, you might have known as much!” Constance crossed her arms.

“My apologies, Constance. As ever, I seem to fall into your bad graces.”

“Truly, you do. However, you might make it up to me if you were to-”

“Another time. Promise.”)

Finally, as if he had decided to take mercy on Yuri’s repressed nerves, Claude von Riegan sauntered through the door, flanked by a bored-looking lady with cherry blossom-pink hair - Lady Goneril, obviously - and a man clad in dark leather armor painted with sigils. Hmm… The Ashen Demon, one would presume.

He fit all the descriptions. Of course, Yuri couldn’t spot any sword made of ancient bones hanging at his hip, but such weapons were banned in the tea house anyway. And Goddess, it would be a pain in the ass if some idiot wielding a Hero’s Relic decided they were too special for the rules. It had happened before, it would probably happen again. But not tonight, it seemed. Good enough.

However, they were likely still armed. Daggers and the like made their way into the tea house often enough. Hey, Yuri couldn’t really blame a guy for not wanting to drop even his luckiest shivs. His little birds knew how to effectively disarm any such rulebreakers and defend themselves. Half were pretty damn gifted with a dagger themselves, and the other half had spells up their sleeve. 

And anyone they couldn’t handle, Yuri would gladly blast to bits.

“My lord, what an unexpected honor.” Yuri bowed exactly as deep as such noble status would demand.

“Unexpected indeed.” Claude smiled. Cunning as ever, then. “My apologies for dropping in on you like this. Though I can’t say I’m surprised that a tea house of your caliber would have no trouble accommodating such a crowd. Very impressive.”

“Such flattery,” Yuri winked. “I assume you’ll want a private room?”

“Only if it comes with your company.”

Yuri chuckled and led the trio down the hall, past a sliding paper door into a private room.

“If you would,” Yuri waved Abysskeeper forward, “Cloaks off, please.”

He patted each of them down, carefully but thoroughly. Hilda carried no weapons, the unnamed man carried a strange ceremonial-looking dagger, and Claude himself had a few exotic weapons - three small curved daggers and a blowgun undoubtedly loaded with poisoned darts. Clever.

Altogether, it was no less than Yuri expected. Hell, he didn’t even particularly care that Claude was armed. It was wartime. Everyone in the damn continent was armed to the teeth. He didn’t feel threatened, exactly, but the gravity of the situation demanded he take every precaution imaginable. Heh, Claude would probably think less of him if he didn’t.

Of course, Claude wouldn’t be so bold as to kill him here in his very own tea house. But then, he was quite difficult to read. Ah, he was likely the only man Yuri might not be able to predict. On top of being deceptive, he was damned clever. Who knew how many extra pieces he might have been playing with? And so, Yuri took no chances.

Claude quirked an eyebrow, but cooly dropped his weapons into the Abysskeeper’s pouch.

“You’ll get them back. Nice as those look, I could surely commission my own.” Yuri slid open a nearby door and beckoned them inside. “I simply can’t allow you to kill me today - I’ve got appointments to make.”

Out of all their private rooms, Yuri had reserved the nicest, most comfortable chambers in the Lair for their meeting. It was spacious - large enough for a small battalion, so it would certainly accommodate the four of them. Painted paper panels on the wall slid over each other to reveal beautiful, layered landscapes when aligned just right. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting light onto the low burgundy wood table below.

The evening was still young, and the fading sunlight hadn’t given way to the chill of night just yet. But if it did, the room was armed with a grand hearth and plenty of logs and candles with subtle floral scents. His cart of refreshments - all meticulously picked according to Constance’s records - carried all the teas and snacks that Claude and Hilda, his lieutenant, liked best, along with a bit of exotic variety on the chance they wanted to try to throw him off.

(And hey, this would be no meeting for pleasure’s sake, but if it was, the room was well stocked with all the necessities for that, too.)

“Surely you know I wouldn’t risk killing someone as talented as yourself,” Claude said

“Talented, huh? Am I not also unfathomably beautiful?” Yuri teased. As they filed into the room, Yuri quickly set about making a pot of tea for the table. “Apologies for the mess, it’s not so often I greet such an important lord on such short notice.”

It wasn’t a mess at all, of course, but that was the sort of thing you ought to say to nobles. In fairness, Claude von Riegan had never seemed the type to expect commoners to kiss his boots, but he’d rather be safe.

“I thank you for greeting me at all. If we’d missed out, I doubt Hilda would ever let me hear the end of it.” Claude laughed. And oh, his charisma was brilliant. His laugh sounded genuine, the warmth of his smile excellently faked - but every bit of him was calculated. Yuri knew that.

Yuri wondered, if he served Claude a cup of tea all twigs and burnt leaves, would his smile crack even a bit? Heh, much as he’d love to test that, he wouldn’t gain anything from it. Might even lose some. Another time, perhaps.

It’s dangerous to dance with dragons. Among men, Claude was a particularly clever dragon.

“You run a fine place. My men certainly seem to be enjoying themselves.” Claude’s voice pierced through the tense air once more. “Great location. I imagine you get people from all across the continent.”

Yuri set the teapot on the table and poured each of them a cup. Same teapot, so Claude could be sure Yuri hadn’t slipped anything into it - or if he had, this would be pointlessly fatal. As even more reassurance, Yuri took a small, scalding sip of his own cup before setting it aside to cool further. 

“Why, thank you,” Yuri said, “I cater to all sorts of tastes. Something tells me you have rather exotic ones.”

“Exotic… That might be one word for it.” Claude took a sip of his tea. “A pine blend? Excellent taste, Yuri.”

“I do aim to please.”

Ah, as much as Yuri so loved to beat around the bush, cloaking meaning in pretty words and etiquette, they’d take hours just to parse each other’s motives. Heh, well, he had hours to spend if he wanted, but the risk of misinterpretation was too high.

“So, cut to the chase,” Yuri said, “You really come all this way for a nice cup of tea?”

“I hear you’re in the business of making kings.” Claude swirled the tea around in his cup.

“Oh? Perhaps so. I deal in information, not crowns,” he said, “But I suppose in the right hands, the two might as well be the same.” 

“Indeed they might. Blind men don’t make great archers.”

“I wonder how you would play the cards I have… Prince Khalid.”

Claude chuckled, eyes glittering with mischief. The other two seemed confused - had he really not even told his closest allies of his secret? But it hardly seemed like a misstep. If anything...

“Well, now, seems I’ve come to the right place.”

“Afraid not, friend. Abyss will remain neutral in the war,” Yuri sighed, “I made my position clear many moons ago. I know the letter made it to your tactician’s hands.”

“Positions change. I’ve got an offer to sweeten the deal. Hear me out; it’s no cost to you.”

“There’s hardly anything you could offer me that would change my stance. Unless you intend to deliver world peace—”

“Oh, but I do.”

“—and even in that unlikely event, peace takes time, which is time that Abyss spends open to attacks. You’re a smart man, Claude. I haven’t said anything you wouldn’t already have known.” 

Yuri stirred a few chunks of date sugar into his tea. Pricey, imported stuff, but their deal with the smugglers has kept them well stocked. And Sothis, he needed a sugary drink. Maybe even something stronger. He made a mental note to have Constance spike the next pot with rum.

“True enough. And yet, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Get on with your pitch, then.” Yuri took a sip of his tea - perfect. “Let’s see your unstoppable force and my immovable object duke it out.”

“Alright then.” Claude grinned, “Who is it that you fight for?”

“Ideally, I’m not _fighting_ for anyone. Violence seems such a waste of my many talents, don’t you think?”

“Fair enough. Who do you stand for, then,” Claude corrected.

“I stand for Abyss. For the commoners of the realm, because none of you lords will.” Yuri’s gaze hardened.

“Then it seems that our goals are aligned, Yuri.”

“Pardon me,” he scoffed, “but what exactly have you come to offer the commoners? Wyverns and trade routes? A good deal, sure, but not what the common folk need desperately.”

“I come offering a dream.”

“Even better - common folk love the abstract,” Yuri chuckled, “Go on, though.”

“My dream is to tear down the walls that separate Fódlan from the outside world. I want to unify the people of Fódlan and eradicate prejudices about outsiders and deviants like us.”

“A deviant, am I?” 

“Well, I’ve heard tell that you don’t worship the Goddess.”

“Yeah, yeah. Perhaps.” Yuri shrugged and waved him on. It was true enough, though it could do with some clarification. It wasn’t that Yuri didn’t believe in the Goddess, or even that he didn’t hold her in high regard… Things were simply a little complicated between him and the Goddess, to say the least.

“The only way to change things is to bring all the world together and start anew, so I will do just that. Fódlaners, outlanders… Nobles, commoners - believers and nonbelievers - everyone. ”

“And here I thought you were as cynical as they come. You really think that folks so different will just, what, play nice when you go wrecking those walls you speak of? The only reason you’ve kept peace with Almyra is because the Throat is impassable. When the gates swing open, are you truly prepared to deal with those... growing pains?”

“It’s ambitious, I know.” Claude smiled, bittersweet, “But who better to have at my side than someone so in touch with the common folk? Those growing pains you speak of - it’s all misinformed. Your influence would help people accept that, and give outsiders a chance before they’ve made up their minds.”

“You want my influence? Heh, I’m not exactly a model citizen, and I have no formal titles.” Yuri grimaced.

“Maybe not, but they look to you for guidance. True power has nothing to do with titles. You among all the lords must understand that.”

“Thieves look to me for guidance. Deviants look to me for guidance. Those who can’t live on the surface - that’s not exactly your target audience, is it?”

“Ha, you don’t think you’ve got broad appeal? Besides that, you’ve got half the lords in Fódlan wrapped around your finger - you’ve got plenty of influence above the ground, too.”

“Perhaps so.” Yuri conceded.

“Look, maybe it’s a longshot. Maybe it’s a pipedream. Maybe I don’t have the power even with the Goddess herself on our side, but I’m asking you to take a chance on me, Yuri. For a better world. Better than the one we were born into,” Claude said softly. “Isn’t that the same as your own dream?”

He was convincing. Damned convincing. At least, Yuri could sense that his conviction was strong. And hey, his words rang true enough. But still, it wasn’t anywhere near a sure bet. Much as he might have wanted to throw his lot in with Claude, Yuri had rules about that sort of thing. He wasn’t just playing for his ideals, he was playing for Abyss.

“I don’t doubt that you’ll see your dream through to the end - or die trying. Heh, I respect that. And maybe I’ll even root for you, Claude, but that doesn’t change the spot I’m in.” Yuri’s gaze hardened. “Tell me, if I did swear my little birds to your cause, then what happens when the Empire comes knocking on my door? Will you leave behind precious troops to defend Abyss? I think not.”

“Well, it’s true that I don’t have many troops to spare. But with your scouts, we should have a pretty good shot at pushing the Empire back past Hrym.”

“You think so? Heh, have you figured out how to push past their fortress knights, then?”

“I might have a scheme or two,” he laughed.

“Still, you’ve got a lot of ground to make up.”

“With your help, we can.”

Ha, well… Say what you will, the guy was charming. Charming enough to get Yuri thinking about hope and change - true change, not just transfers of territories and titles.

“You don’t have the men,” Yuri sighed.

“We have the Sword of the Creator.”

“Ha. The Empire has dark magic, and a hell of a lot more coin than you do.”

“Ouch,” he winced. It was a harsh, unavoidable truth. The Empire was ruthless. Half the Alliance’s southern ports were set aflame during the first year of the war - Deirdru might have kept the Alliance afloat with its international trade, but they could hardly outspend the Empire.

“If I declare for you, Abyss becomes a target.” Yuri grimaced. “If I work under the table, you gamble on leaving Abyss undefended. Either way, you can’t guarantee my peoples’ safety, no matter how many Heroes’ Relics you’ve racked up. I’ll be blunt - I like you, Claude, but not enough to sacrifice my people. No deal.”

“Worth a shot.” Claude shrugged. He handed Yuri a thin scroll bound with a delicate golden ribbon. “In case you change your mind. I won’t keep you any longer, then.”

“Do enjoy your stay. Though I can’t promise you my assistance, I never let a client leave unsatisfied. Let Constance know if there’s anything else you desire of me.”

“Join me for a few games in the hall?” Claude offered. “I’d hate to come all this way just to miss out on your tactical genius.”

“Heh, that I can do.”

* * *

By the sixth month of hard marching, Balthus’s bones had finally started to crave a bed with posts and a real straw mattress. He wasn’t a wimp or anything, but damn, sleeping on rooty ground could fuck with a guy’s back.

Of course, they couldn’t just turn around and march back into Alliance territory, but a tavern was the next best thing, yeah?

Constant battle got soldiers all jittery and pent up. And jittery and pent up soldiers got reckless. Scouts would start missin’ obvious signs, skipping over unimportant-looking stuff just ‘cause they wanted to get home a bit faster. And the brigands were worse - all fury and no finesse. Heh, alright, it was a bit hypocritical of Balthus to go judging the guys for running in so recklessly, but he never claimed to be perfect. At least, Hilda let him know (on several occasions, mind you) that he definitely wasn’t. 

Heh, anyway, all that to say it was a wise choice on Claude’s part to let ‘em all rest up and party it up before they packed up and moved on to the next battle. Of course, Balthus knew Claude wasn’t stopping over _just_ to raise morale, but he didn’t have any complaints. As long as he got a good drink and a night without marching out of the deal, Claude could have however many ulterior motives he liked.

Balthus had never been to the Wyvern’s Lair, but he’d heard the stories. He’d heard it was some fancy-ass tavern with drinks you couldn’t pronounce, and with gals that could kick your ass at any board game you could name. He’d heard it was the number one place that all the stuffiest lords went for a night of ‘recreation’, and that the owner was some hotshot worth more gold than any king could offer - and they’d all tried.

But hearing all that, Balthus had brushed the place off as some prim and proper place where ladies only bared their ankles, and the lords were probably just shit at poker. Heh, well, he had never been more glad to be wrong!

(And he was wrong a _lot_!)

Dozens upon dozens of shiny metal tankards glimmered under the light of painted paper lanterns hanging from each arched beam on the ceiling. The game hall was filled to the brim with busy tables full of warriors wagering bits of their coin and pride in hopes of winning a game or two. Polished brass taps shone under the bar lights as a busy barkeep sent out tankard after tankard of ale and cocktails. Brigands and warlocks alike clanked their mugs together with rowdy cheer, savoring their all too brief moment of indulgence between missions.

Nice place, yeah? It was cozy enough, and the hearth was more than welcome this far into autumn. Campfires had their own appeal, sure. Balthus was as much a man of the wilderness as any guy in his sturdy battalion of dicers. But even he longed for some cushier digs once in a while, and the Lair fit the bill. Ale flowed freely from the taps, and the grub was pretty good too.

Balthus couldn’t say he cared much for the sugar-dusted tarts they made as a house special, but their jerky had a real kick to it, and whoever came up with their meat pie recipe might have even had a revelation from the Goddess herself. Caramelized onions, soft diced potatoes, a flaky, buttery crust, and spiced beef with a kick of hot sauce… Damn good!

Heh, Balthus just wished the Goddess spent a little more time blessing chefs and a little less time blessing warriors. Not that he himself wasn’t a recipient of a little Goddess-given blood, but hey, he liked to think he was good for other things too. 

Chefs were better for this world than warriors. Simple as Balthus was, that much was obvious to him. War and shit happened because folks were too accustomed to fighting out their problems, not talking them out, or even cooking them out. Maybe if more people were shit at fighting, things would actually change for the better.

Until then, high lords had to rely on men like Balthus to do their problem solving for ‘em - with their fists! Eh, well, it paid well enough. Life wasn’t boring. Maybe there was even a bit of valor and honor in fighting for somethin’ like the open, peaceful world Claude always talked about. But servin’ up victories wasn’t the same as servin’ up comfort food and stiff drinks. People didn’t smile when soldiers came round. Some were thankful for the protection, but most just resented the war entirely.

Balthus couldn’t blame them.

So anyway, it was a pretty good gig. He had plenty of time to rest in between battles, but it wasn’t every day that Claude paid him to drink and gamble! So hell, Balthus had his work cut out for him! He’d done fairly well tonight - made a buck or two, earned enough free drinks that his ‘fun budget’ stayed untouched for the night. Heh, Claude could thank the Goddess for that, ‘cause it was his coin anyhow. Balthus sat back at the bar, indulging in a hard-won concoction of cider and cinnamon, just people watchin’ for a bit.

In truth, he’d been looking for a bit of a challenge. As great of buddies as they were, no one in his own battalion could beat Balthus in a game of cards. But venturing outside that… Well, Claude would kick his ass any day of the week - guy’s smart as shit. Lysithea refused to play him on several occasions, which, hey, fair, she’s far too focused on her studies to gamble (unless it’s for sweets). Maybe if he could rope Hilda into helping him bake some…

Eh, that’s trouble for another day. Here at the Wyvern's Lair, Balthus had his pick of gambling buddies. There was one guy he really had his eye on, though.

Balthus leaned over the bar.

“Hey, who’s that guy with the purple hair,” he nodded to the man in question, “He works here, right?”

“Surely you do not mean Yuri LeClerc? Have his grand deeds truly not traveled so far as your ears?” The blond barkeep looked up at him, somewhere between stunned and… pissed? Then she laughed. “Ah, no matter, I simply must rectify your ignorance!”

“Uh-”

Balthus wasn’t really askin’ for the guy’s whole resume, but damn if she didn’t hand it over and then some. If the loony lady was to be believed, then that little vixen had a body count (and not the fun kind) of over a hundred men, and could talk down demonic beasts with only his clever words and magic lute. He’d built a city from sandstone and cinder, cornered lords into doing his bidding with just a look - how much of that was true, Balthus had no idea, but hey, Yuri seemed like a real stand up guy, yeah?

“Constance, I do hope you’re not boring our guest,” A silvery voice interrupted. Balthus turned to face the newcomer, shocked to see Yuri _himself_ settling beside him on a barstool. Ah, shit. Balthus straightened up, puffing out his chest a bit. Not that he needed to, but y’know, he wanted to look good as his company, right? “Sorry about that, she’s quite fond of our little tea house. And me by extension, I suppose.”

Goddess, it really was him. The guy. _The_ Yuri LeClerc - the whole reason Claude flew south to begin with. The guy he had heard so much about... And up close, it was fuckin’ easy to see why his name was on everyone’s lips.

Balthus had heard the stories. Hell, everyone had. Yuri LeClerc, the fairest man alive, subject of bards’ songs and flowery poetry. Balthus had rolled his eyes at that shit. Because what kind of guy could really be that damn pretty? How could anyone be worth half a damn kingdom? Who the hell could inspire that much love - who, short of the Goddess herself? What sort of man could pull kings and queens from their velveted thrones and high towers just to spend a night in some far-flung tea house?

But now, seeing him, Balthus understood.

He was _immaculate_. Polished, perfect, beautiful as the moon on a clear night. His silver-trimmed silks settled around him, flaring out like airy wings.

Balthus had seen how he drew eyes just by walkin’ by. He could get a guy hooked with just a flick of his fingers or a teasing little half-smile. Guys would hold their breaths till they fainted if they thought it’d get them in Yuri’s good graces. Balthus would too, dammit.

“I speak only the truth!” Constance cackled.

“An embellished version, I’m sure.” Yuri tossed his hair behind his shoulder. Looked soft. Suspiciously soft. Balthus’s throat felt oddly dry for some reason. The pretty guy kept going, “Greywater ale for me and five meads for table five.”

“It’ll be but a moment!” Constance hurried to get some glasses.

Yuri turned back to Balthus with a wink.

“If the Hero of Daphnel wants to beat me at Queen’s Gambit, she’ll have to get me a fair sight drunker than this,” Yuri joked. “Oh, and Constance, you can free up my room tonight - looks like I won’t be needing it.”

“Oh, uh, you turnin’ in for the night or something?” Balthus stammered. Not like he was nervous or anything, just looking for the right words.

“Oh? Hoping to challenge me before I go?” Yuri tapped his chin, smirking, “Worry not, friend. I simply had an appointment run shorter than expected. I’ll be in the hall until late unless someone requests me for a _private_ audience.”

“Really, now? I-” 

“Ahem!” Before he got the chance to figure out where he was going with that, Constance returned with a platter stacked with glasses of sweet mead and a tankard of amber-colored ale. “Your mead is served!”

“Nice to meet you, Lord Albrecht.” Yuri took the platter and flitted off with a wink. Wait, when had he told the guy his name?

“Yeah… Alright pal...” As soon as he left earshot, Balthus whipped around to Constance, eyes wide and cheeks probably a touch too red. “How the hell do I request him?”

**Author's Note:**

> Sun and I came up with so many awesome ideas for this AU that we knew we just couldn't fit it into the amount of words I would be able to write in the URBB's posting period, so hey, why not make it an ongoing fic!?
> 
> I hope you guys are as hyped as I am for the rest of this journey! :)  
> All the love to Sun for having such grand ideas with me and wanting to go through with such a huge story! Let me know what bits you love and what you think will happen next! <3
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter :)  
> [@hanatamagos](https://twitter.com/hanatamagos)


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